So I need to find a clock. It has to be something fairly obvious, with an analog face and hands. I should be able to read it from across the room, because frankly, if I have to squint to read it, it’s unlikely I will bother looking at it at all. I’m just like that. One has to humor oneself through these little weaknesses.
Where I live, in the Kootenays of British Columbia, Canada, there is something called “Kootenay time.” Basically what it means is that if you make a plan to meet somewhere at 10:00, don’t be surprised if your friend doesn’t show up until 10:30. (Our Greek friends in Montreal used to laugh about “Greek time” in much the same way, so you see, this problem is not the curse of one ethnic group alone.)
There’s even a clock sold at a local gift shop with the words “Kootenay time” written on the clock face and the numbers slid into a little pile at the bottom. I would never buy this clock. Not because I don’t think it’s kind of funny, but because I wouldn’t be able to read it, and I would still be late leaving the house.
My brother-in-law -- the one who counts his every step -- got downright angry when he first heard someone mention about Kootenay time. The concept grated against every nerve in his body.
Here are some clocks I’m considering putting on my mudroom wall. Why the mudroom you ask? Because it’s all the last minute things I feel I need to do before I leave the house that seem to get me. I pack and repack my bag, I get on my winter gear, which always takes longer than I’ve allowed myself time for. Maybe I have to tidy up just one more spot that I’ve already walked past a dozen times that day without it bothering me, but just because I’m leaving the house it screams at me that it looks a mess.
You get the idea.